Clary's Wedding
by NewtPevensie
Summary: What if Clary's vision in the demon realm were true? What if she was about to marry Jace? Clace wedding AU. K just in case for future chapters.
1. Chapter 1

_Clary stood on a shady lawn that rolled away down a sloping hill. The sky overhead was perfectly blue, dotted here and there with white clouds. At her feet a stone walkway stretched to the front door of a large manor house, built of mellow golden stone._

 _She craned her head back, looking up. The house was lovely: the stones were the colour of butter in the spring sunshine, covered in trellises of climbing roses in red and gold and orange. Wrought iron balconies curved out from the façade, and there were two large arched doors of bronze-coloured wood, their surfaces wrought with delicate designs of wings._

 _Fairchild Manor. Her home._

 _'_ _Clary!' Her mother appeared at one of the balconies, wearing an elegant champagne-coloured dress; her red hair was down, and she looked young and beautiful. Her arms were bare, circled with black runes. 'What do you think? Doesn't it look gorgeous?'_

 _Clary followed her mother's gaze toward where the lawn flattened out. There was an archway of roses set up at the end of an aisle, on either side of which were rows of wooden benches. White flowers were scattered along the aisle: the white flowers that grew only in Idris. The air was rich with their honey scent._

 _She looked back up at her mother, who was no longer alone on the balcony. Luke was standing behind her, an arm around her waist. He was in rolled-up shirtsleeves and formal trousers, as if halfway dressed for a party. His arms too were twined with runes: runes for good luck, for insight, for strength, for love. 'Are you ready?' he called down to Clary._

 _'_ _Clary!'_

 _She whirled. He was coming toward her across the grass – slender, with white-pale hair that shone in the sunlight, dressed in formal black with gold runes at his collar and cuffs. He was grinning, a smudge of dirt on his cheek, and holding up a hand to block the brightness of the sun._

 _His eyes shone, green as spring grass._

 _'_ _Clary,' he said again, 'you're not going to believe – '_

 _'_ _Jonathan!' a small voice trilled. Clary saw her little sister dashing across the grass. She had red hair, the same shade as Clary's, and it flew out behind her like a banner. She was barefoot, wearing a green lace dress that had been so thoroughly torn to ribbons at the cuffs and hem that it resembled shredded lettuce. As she reached Jonathan, she held up her arms, and he bent down to swing her up into the air._

 _She shrieked in delight as he held her over his head. 'Ouch, ouch – quit that, you demon child,' he said as she pulled at his hair. 'Val, I said stop it, or I'll hold you upside down. I mean it.'_

 _'_ _Clary, make him let me go, make him – owwww!' shrieked Valentina as Jonathan turned her upside down and swung her through the air. Val dissolved into giggles as he set her down on the grass, and she turned a pair of eyes the exact blue of Luke's up at Clary._

Rolling her eyes at both of them, Clary leaned down to pick Val up. Swinging her sister onto her hip, she turned to Jonathan and said accusingly, 'You said you wouldn't let her get too excited!'

'Bit late for that, I think,' he mumbled sheepishly – Clary had always been able to make him feel like an idiot, despite her being eighteen months his junior. She raised her eyebrow, and as she walked back toward the manor, Val busy twisting her hair, she called back, 'If my wedding's ruined, I'm setting the boys on you.' She smiled at the muttered curses that followed her as Jonathan brushed himself off and made his way to the manor a few paces behind his sisters.

Clary turned her attention to the dirty five-year-old in her arms. 'Val,' she started seriously. 'Do you remember what today is?'

The tiny girl thought for a second then replied, beaming, 'Friday!'

'No, Val… Well, yeah, actually. But what's special about _this_ Friday?'

Another few seconds of thought, before she spied Jonathan pantomiming eating cake over Clary's shoulder.

'Cake! So… oh! Party!'

'That's right Val, we're having a party. So you need to run to Mommy, get cleaned up and put your pretty dress on.'

'Ok!' With nothing else to say, Val slid down Clary and ran up the front steps of Fairchild Manor, yelling 'Mommy?' in her little-girl voice.

'You sure having her as a ringbearer is still a good idea?' Jonathan had caught up with Clary, who was half-smiling as she took in the adorable lunacy of her little sister.

'Probably not, but there's not much I can do about it now, is there?'

'Fair enough.' Jonathan grinned at her, then started pushing her towards the front door.

'Hey– what are you doing?'

'You said you'd set the others on me if your wedding was ruined. I don't doubt you'll be holding me to that, so it's my job to make sure this goes smoothly. And part one of that plan is to get you ready – can't have the bride being late to her own wedding, can we?' Changing tack, he suddenly grabbed her by the wrist and started dragging her towards her room, having passed through the huge oak doors. She got his point and picked up the pace, just as he bellowed, 'ISABELLE!'

'WHAT?' The reply came from Clary's bedroom, confirming Jonathan's suspicions.

'SHE'S HERE!'

'Finally!' At that, Isabelle Lightwood stuck her head over the banister at the top of the stairs, glaring at the two siblings. 'What took you so long? It doesn't really matter at this stage,' she cut in as Clary opened her mouth to answer. 'What are you waiting for? Get up here! You aren't going to get ready for the biggest day of your life standing there gawping, you know.' With that, her head disappeared from the floor above as Clary and Jonathan shared a sheepish look. Clary rolled her eyes at her friend who seemed more stressed about her wedding than the bride herself, then ran a critical eye over Jonathan. Flicking a strand of white-blond hair out of his eyes, she commented, 'You might want to get yourself ready too – clean up a bit.'

'Don't tell me what to do, little sister,' he smirked, then backed off as she swatted at his shoulder. 'Fine, I'm going, I'm going!' She may be his little sister, but she could hit harder than anyone he knew. Especially when she got that look in her eye – the one that said 'you can't escape' – the one aimed at him right now. He raised his arms in surrender, then headed up the stairs, swerving around her as she made another attempt for his shoulder. Their squabble was interrupted by a shout from upstairs.

'Clary Fairchild, if you aren't up here in ten seconds so help me you can do your hair yourself!' That threat heard, Clary copied her sister from a few minutes earlier and ran up the red carpeted stairs, covered in a sheen of gold where the sunlight hit them through the skylight two floors above her. She hurried along the landing and turned right into her orange-painted room. Isabelle was standing by the door, looking seriously mad. She grabbed Clary's hand and dragged her to her desk, forcing her to sit. Isabelle marched round behind her and started brushing Clary's red curls with determined strokes.

'You don't realise how much effort I've put into planning your look, do you? So you decide that an hour before your wedding is the time to start playing with your brother. What am I going to do with you?' Isabelle shook her head in exasperation, then started twisting part of her sister-in-law-to-be's hair into two braids. As she expertly manipulated Clary's hair, she noticed that her friend was becoming increasingly subdued as the look of apprehension in her green eyes grew. Her irritation subsided, quickly becoming sympathy.

'Izzy?'

'Yeah?'

'I'm scared.' Put so simply, she sounded like a child, not a 21-year-old bride.

'Why? Think you'll mess up the runes or something? Come on, chances of you doing that are tiny – although, it being you, Jace may end up with a rune that's slightly more powerful than he expects…' Isabelle trailed off, realising her attempt at humour wasn't really working.

'What if I say the wrong thing? Or what if I fall over my own feet? It's happened before…' Isabelle 'hmmd' in sympathy, her mind going back to an interesting Mantid demon attack where Clary had managed to decapitate one of the creatures while twisting around to avoid falling on her face, having tripped over her untied laces. Her work on Clary's hair finished, she moved round to face her friend and started to apply primer in swift, efficient movements.

'I really don't know what to say to make you feel less scared, Clary. All I can say is that you and Jace love each other more than I've seen anyone love anyone else. And that's got to count for something. Anyway,' she continued, changing the subject. 'How long did it take you to get rid of the ducks in the pond again? You know how Jace hates them.'

The smirk on Clary's face by that point knew she'd hit on a good topic to distract her from thoughts of public embarrassment.

'About four days. Magnus was the one who finished it off – before that we'd have about an hour of peace before Jace saw another one and started yelling again. You'd have thought he was being eaten by them.'

'How does he do it?'

'Well, Izzy, Magnus speaks Duck, so managed to convince them to find a new pond to live in – what do you think?' Clary wiggled her fingers and made a weird noise, which was apparently supposed to convey Magnus's magical warlocky powers.

'Not Magnus.' Isabelle rolled her eyes. 'Jace. How is he the perfect Shadowhunter in front of a demon, but he sees a duckling and falls to pieces?'

'Who knows? Strange childhood mishap? Ancestral battle with a duck causing a fear programmed into every descendant?'

Isabelle grinned and pulled Clary to her feet. 'Hang on a sec, I've got to get your dress.' She whirled out of the room and was back a minute later, holding a white bag with Clary's wedding gown in it. Turning to the desk so her friend could have some privacy to change, Isabelle started applying her own makeup in front of the small mirror standing on the edge of the white table.

There was silence for a minute as both girls set about their tasks. After a finishing sweep of mascara, Isabelle rose to see Clary standing in her dress, looking radiant, but that radiance was muted by the remnants of her fear. Her almost-sister motioned for her to turn, and as she faced Isabelle again, Clary saw her break into a huge smile.

'Beautiful.'

'You think?'

'Of course. When have I ever lied to you? Don't!' Isabelle added hastily before Clary had a chance to answer, so the redhead contented herself with a raised eyebrow. 'Soon, you're going to be Mrs Clary Herondale.' She wrinkled her nose. 'Sounds weird, doesn't it?'

'Not really.' Clary stopped, still trying to make sense of it herself. 'To me, it sounds right – it _feels_ right. I never knew something could feel like it couldn't ever be anything different, but that's what this is like. I sound mad, don't I?'

Isabelle smirked. 'No more so than usual.'

At that, Clary heard a commotion from outside her door. 'Val, honey, you can't go in there right now. Clary's getting ready still.' Jocelyn Fairchild's efforts were in vain, as Valentina threw the door open and jumped onto the bed. Jocelyn shook her head in despair, then caught sight of her eldest daughter. 'Oh, Clary honey, you look gorgeous!'

'Pretty,' Val nodded. Isabelle took this as her cue to leave and slipped out the door, making her way along the corridor to her own room to finish getting ready. Jocelyn hugged Clary, carefully so as not to crease her dress. Her champagne-coloured dress skimmed over her willowy frame, the black runes entwining her arms and shoulders standing out starkly against her pale skin. With a smile at her daughter, she crossed the room to the giggling child who was being a mole under the covers of Clary's bed. 'You,' she said, swinging Val up into her arms, 'can go wait with Jonathan.' Clary winced.

'I'm not sure that's a good ide–'

Thankfully, Luke was at the door. He plucked his daughter from his wife's arms, and winking at Clary, said, 'Way ahead of you. I just sent him to make sure Simon was ready. There's no way he is yet, so Jonathan'll be a while.' The pair smiled at each other, Clary thinking how lucky she was to have her parabatai – even though he irritated the hell out of her sometimes. Simon Lovelace was her best friend, and had been since the age of four – younger than Val was now. They had become parabatai only a few years before, and now she couldn't remember why they hadn't done the ceremony earlier.

As Luke carried Val down the stairs, seriously discussing the dangers of bed-moles, Clary took a deep breath and turned to her mother.

'You're still ok with this, right?'


	2. Chapter 2

Jocelyn looked at her, smile fading from her lips. 'Why would you ask that?'

'Well, you never seemed to like Jace all that much, and you always looked sad when we were talking about wedding plans…' Clary trailed off. Jocelyn raised her eyes to the heavens, as though asking why she had to deal with this now.

'I do like Jace – now at least. At first I thought he was just going to break your heart. As for being sad… Everything you're doing now reminds me of what I did to prepare for my first wedding – when I married your father. I love Luke, but there's still a part of me that wishes Valentine had survived the war, just to see you on your wedding day. His little girl…' Her voice broke. ' _My_ little girl.' Clary felt her own eyes filling with tears and blinked hard, trying not to ruin the makeup that Isabelle had applied only minutes before.

Jocelyn wrapped her arms around her daughter, and with a final squeeze, returned to the brisk mother she usually was. Tucking a strand of hair that had come loose behind her ear, she opened the door and gestured for Clary to go through. Together they went down the staircase winding round the right-hand side of the main entrance, Clary holding on to the banister to stop herself from falling over in her heels. The pair were joined by Isabelle wearing a shimmering ruby dress that hugged her slim body and fell to just below her knees, and heels that were even more impossible than Clary's. Her electrum whip was coiled around her wrist – to Isabelle, fashion and weaponry were almost synonymous.

Luke and Val were waiting by the door, the former having found his jacket. Valentina was quite serious now, having realised this was an important occasion, so she had to _behave_ , or she would get _that_ look from her mother, the one that meant _trouble._ Clary crouched down to be at the same level as her little sister. 'Do you remember what to do?'

'I have to carry the box to… umm…' The little girl squeezed her eyes shut, concentrating fiercely. 'To the man with the hood at the front. Then I go sit with Mommy. And I've gotta be very quiet, and sit still. If I do that,' she said, opening her eyes, 'I get cake. Right?'

'That's right Val. Sit tight and you'll get cake.' Clary stood. 'Where's my idiot brother got to with Simon?'

'Right here.' The two boys bounded down the stairs, both knowing the place so well they knew they wouldn't fall. The pair jumped the last five steps, exclaiming at the same time, 'I win!' Clary rolled her eyes then glared at them, communicating her unwillingness to judge the contest perfectly. Simon picked up on her mood instantly – that was definitely the best thing about having a parabatai: no one else could just read your thoughts like they could – and punched Jonathan on the shoulder with a grin. 'Call it a tie this time?'

'Fine,' Jonathan grumbled. Glancing at his watch, he pulled the heavy oak doors wide open and ushered his parents out. 'Come on, mustn't delay the wedding, Clary'll blow her stack if we do.' With a quick grin over his shoulder at his sister, he followed his parents to their seats at the front of the aisle.

Her parents' entrance cued the start of the music – the old Scots folk song, 'Mairi's Wedding'. Only a few minor adjustments had been needed to adapt it for this ceremony. With a nod from Clary, Val stepped out of the manor, holding a small silver box inlaid with onyx stones. Clary took a deep breath to steady herself, then held out her arm to her parabatai. Simon took it and squeezed her spare hand quickly for luck. Isabelle held out Clary's small bouquet – scarlet roses with a single yellow blossom with red tips at the very centre. She took it and inhaled the heady scent to clear her head. Isabelle gave her a quick grin, then stepped out into the sunshine, followed a few paces later by Clary, gripping Simon's arm tightly. She didn't realise quite _how_ tightly she was holding on until Simon winced and nudged her in the side.

'It's just a wedding – what are you worried about?' Clary stuck her tongue out at him, just as they reached the end of the aisle. The pair stopped for a second, allowing Clary to compose herself before she pledged herself to the man she loved. She ducked her head for a second, long enough for her to mutter a quick 'By the Angel,' so quietly the only one to hear was a now-smirking Simon. Looking up, she caught sight of possibly the only person in the world who made her heart stop.

Jace.

He saw Clary and his gold eyes widened. He smiled, and Clary could see his white teeth gleaming against his tanned skin. His blond hair was sticking up a bit at the front from where he had obviously run his hands through it several times – the only sign that he was in the least bit nervous. His black ceremonial gear was starkly contrasted with the golden runes embroidered round the cuffs – runes for luck, for solidarity, for loyalty, for love. He looked almost relaxed, despite it being a serious ceremony. He raised his eyebrow, and Clary realised she was just standing there, drinking in her fiancé. She looked at Simon – still smirking – and as one, they moved down the aisle.

Step we gaily, on we go,

Heel for heel and toe for toe.

Arm in arm and row on row,

All for Clary's wedding.

Jace looked out as he saw the door to Clary's home open. He couldn't see his fiancée because she was on the wrong side of Simon as they came along the path perpendicular to the aisle. They turned left, suddenly facing the altar, and Jace's heart stopped.

She looked amazing. Her slim figure was shown off perfectly in her golden gown. A repeating wing motif entwined with falling stars was embroidered on the full skirt that fell almost to the floor. The sequined neckline caught the late afternoon rays and sent sparkles shooting in every direction. Her fiery hair was done up in a simple but elegant bun at the base of her neck, with two plaits disappearing into it. He noticed she was wearing a small silver necklace with a faerie wing pendant. He smiled, remembering when he had proposed and given her that necklace.

They had gone on patrol around Brooklyn, to get out of Idris for a while, and Jace had realised that he couldn't wait any longer. He had grasped Clary's hand and pulled her to face him. She smiled and looked up at him questioningly. Jace reached out to her and cradled her face in her palm. She had leaned into him, half-closing her eyes. He stroked her cheek with his thumb, then let go. Her eyes opened and stared into his, a smirk playing on her lips. She raised her eyebrows, and needing no more invitation than that, Jace slipped his family ring off his finger and held it out. Her eyes widened and her hands flew to cover her mouth. Jace glanced at the ring and rolled his eyes.

'I guess it's fairly obvious what I'm going to ask.' Clary's shocked expression had more than confirmed his statement. 'You know how much I love you. But I wanted to tell you anyway. I love you, Clary Fairchild, more than I ever thought possible. I never imagined that someone could fill the gap the death of my father left in me, but you have done that a million times over. You showed me how to be a better man – how to be the man you fell in love with. I've been wanting to ask this for a while, though it never seemed like the right time. But I just realised I couldn't go another day – no, not another minute – without asking you. So I'm asking you now: Clary Fairchild, will you marry me?'

Clary had stared at him for a second, then nodded mutely before she found her voice and whispered, 'Yes.' A smile that would outshine the sun broke out across her face. Jace found himself grinning back madly, as she repeated, in a voice that was almost a shriek, 'Yes!'

She grabbed his waist and pulled him against her body. Their lips met and pressed against each other hungrily. Their kisses grew hotter, wilder and more intense. Eventually Jace broke away with an apologetic smile and took her hand. He slipped the silver ring engraved with birds in flight onto her finger, and reached into his pocket. He'd found the necklace in an antique shop in Alicante, and had immediately thought of Clary. He spun her round and swept her hair away from her neck, clasping the delicate pendant around her throat. She looked down and fingered the exquisite pair of wings, twisting the chain so she could see it properly. A quiet gasp told him that he had made a good choice of gift.

'Since part of the wedding ceremony is returning the ring, I wanted to get you an engagement gift you could keep,' he explained. She turned to face him again, kissed him softly on the lips, then started walking along the road.

'That patrol isn't going to get done with us just standing here.'

Jace was abruptly brought back to the present by an exasperated sigh from his right. He glanced over to see Alec lifting his eyes to the sky. He raised an eyebrow as Clary and Simon started walking down the aisle. His parabatai shook his head and mouthed 'Later,' before flicking his eyes back to the approaching pair.

Clary and Simon reached the altar, and with an amused look at Jace, Simon kissed Clary on the cheek, then placed her hand in Jace's. They faced each other, sharing a look full of love, hope and no small amount of fear.

Red her cheeks as rowans are,

Bright her eyes as any star.

Fairest of them all by far

Is our darling Clary.

The Silent Brother overseeing the ceremony, Brother Jeremiah, spoke in their minds and those of the audience. ''Set me as a seal upon thine heart, as a seal upon thine arm: for love is as strong as death.' So says the Song of Solomon. It is time for Jace Herondale and Clarissa Fairchild to mark each other with the marriage rune. They will bind you until you are parted by death. Do you wish to continue?'

'I do,' they answered simultaneously.

'Thus is a union born.'

Jace held out his arm. Clary took the stele offered by Isabelle and drew the simple but strong knot of lines and curves that would bind Jace to her. She recreated the rune on his chest, above his heart. Alec's stele was in Jace's hand almost as soon as she had finished. As Jace repeated the ritual, she felt something like an invisible cord tying itself around her heart. With a final messy flourish finishing the rune, the cord completed its knot and tied her to Jace.

'By the power of the Angel, I pronounce this couple man and wife.'

The explosion of emotions that burst through her were temporarily drowned out by the eruption of clapping and cheering from the audience. And then she couldn't hear anything at all because she looked into her husband's eyes and then he was kissing her, telling her in those kisses how much he loved her, his hopes for the future and his forgotten fears from the past. She kissed him back tenderly, but promising more afterwards – more for the rest of their lives.

Step we gaily, on we go

Heel for heel and toe for toe.

Arm in arm and row on row,

All for Clary's wedding.


	3. Chapter 3

Far too soon they broke apart, having realised that they were surrounded by their friends and family, and that what they were doing was probably a bit much for company – even if it _was_ their wedding day. They shared a slightly abashed smile, which widened as they registered what had just happened. They faced the audience, who continued clapping and cheering for a moment longer, before surging up to congratulate the couple.

Jace turned to his parabatai, receiving a slightly unexpected hug from the usually introverted Alec Lightwood. His sister was embracing Clary, until her boyfriend Simon joined the pair and wrapped them both in a hug together. 'My two girls,' he grinned, earning himself a thwack on the arm from each. Clary heard a high-pitched squeal and felt something smash into her. She looked down to see Val clinging onto her legs, grinning with her entire being.

'Cake time!'

Clary laughed. 'Soon. We have to see everyone first, then we can go get cake.' At the sight of her sister's pouting face, she carried on. 'Why don't you go look for Raphael? He's probably about as bored as you.' Val released her legs and ran off with renewed energy to find Alec and Magnus's adopted son, named for Magnus's friend Raphael Santiago, who fell in the Battle of Brocelind Plain, the culmination of the Mortal War against Hodge Starkweather. The same battle Clary and Jonathan's father had fallen in. Clary felt a pang of sadness at the memory of her father, but quickly regained control as she noticed Jace being embraced by Jocelyn and Luke.

'Congrats, Clary!'

The redhead turned and saw a pretty blonde girl of around sixteen, slim and athletic in a simple lilac frock. She was followed by a handsome boy of the same age, tall and brown-haired, with blue-green eyes the colour of the sea on a sunny day.

'Thanks Emma.' Clary smiled, reaching out to hug the girl. Despite the younger girl being six inches taller than her, Clary felt a surge of protectiveness towards her friend. Emma had become thinner and seemed older than the last time Clary had seen her, barely a few months before. Emma released the bride, replaced quickly by Julian Blackthorn, who enveloped her in a bearhug. As he stepped back, looking instinctively for the rest of his family, Clary noticed how Emma stood slightly closer to Julian than you normally might a friend, and internally raised an eyebrow at how they both seemed oblivious to how they were unconsciously giving themselves away.

Emma glanced up at Julian and bit her lip, eyebrows drawing together as she somehow registered something was wrong. Julian gave her an apologetic smile, and with a quiet 'Congrats' to Clary, turned towards his family. Emma grabbed Clary's hand and dragged her along with them to greet the other Blackthorns. Mark was chatting animatedly with Jonathan and Simon, while Helen Blackthorn and Aline Penhallow stood with fingers entwined speaking to Catarina Loss, a warlock with startling blue skin who worked as a nurse in a hospital in New York. Andrew Blackthorn, Julian's father, was balancing a six-year-old Octavian on his hip while twelve-year old Drusilla held his hand as he caught up with Jia Penhallow, the Consul, and her husband Patrick.

Julian stopped in front of Tiberius and Livia, both fourteen. Ty looked confused and on edge, staring at the ground, while Livvy prattled on about anything and everything in the soft voice she knew soothed him. Julian's forehead creased as he realised just how uncomfortable Ty was – all the noise and the people everywhere set him on edge. He leaned down to whisper in Ty's ear. The younger boy seemed a lot happier at what his brother had told him, and slipped his hand into his pocket, taking out a small set of headphones and putting them on. Ty then looked up properly and noticed Clary standing back with Emma. He shot an uncertain look at Julian, then stepped up to the two girls and shook the bride's hand.

'Congratulations, Clary. Thank you for inviting us to share in your joyful day.' Ty spoke solemnly, as he normally did when he wasn't totally at ease, although he did look a lot more relaxed having put on his headphones.

'The pleasure is all mine, Ty. I'm just glad you could all make it. Truth be told, I wasn't sure I could make it without seeing Emma do something insane at some point, so it's almost her fault you're here!'

Ty gave a shy half-smile as the others laughed. Clary was distracted by her delight that Ty felt sufficiently content with her that he could let his mental barriers down enough to even smile, so failed to notice that her husband had sneaked up behind her.

'Hey, Mrs Herondale.'

Clary shrieked as his arms wrapped around her waist. Seeing the surprised looks on the Blackthorns' faces, the pair burst out laughing at her overreaction. Clary leaned back against Jace, turning her head to kiss him on the cheek. Then his words finally sank in.

'Mrs Herondale… That makes me sound so old.' Clary sighed.

'You wouldn't be the first to think that!' The newlyweds grinned as they saw a slim, brown-haired girl move gracefully towards them, a boy of the same age in tow. Jace dropped his arms as Clary went to hug the newcomer. 'I was married at eighteen, and had the exact same reaction.'

'Did you get used to it?' Clary asked.

Tessa Gray thought for a second. 'Thankfully Nephilim don't normally call each other by their surnames, even in my time, but I didn't mind. Will was all I cared about – not the name.'

Clary smiled. 'You aren't the only one to think that about a Herondale either.' The girls laughed at Jace's slightly embarrassed expression. Then his face cleared, and he waved to Alec and Magnus, who had just passed Val and Raphael off to Jocelyn and Luke. The pair came over holding hands, Alec looking mildly uncomfortable at holding hands in public, tracking the judging glances that followed them. They joined the small circle that was forming, and Magnus went to greet Tessa and her companion.

'Tessa, biscuit, it's been a while! Last I heard you were in the Spiral Labyrinth, doing some research on the wards in South America.' Magnus's sparkling hair caught the sun as he faced the boy standing by Tessa, who had started smiling dreamily, like he was remembering something from a long time ago. 'Is that… James? Is it really you?'

'Hello, Magnus.' James Carstairs had a low, melodious voice, with an accent that sounded English. 'I'm back.'

'What… When… Wh–' Magnus stuttered. He took a deep breath and tried again. 'How?'

Jem smiled. 'When Valentine Morgenstern fought Hodge Starkweather in the Battle of New York, his sword was imbued with the power of the angels. Starkweather was stabbed with the sword, but it didn't kill him – he was too well protected by his demonic runes, as well as having possession of two of the Mortal Instruments. When Starkweather retreated to prepare for a more significant battle that he knew was coming, the Silent Brothers were alerted to the many wounded Nephilim around Brooklyn. I was sent there, along with several of my brethren. I found Valentine, who was suffering from several broken bones and numerous cuts – too many simultaneous injuries to heal immediately with iratzes. He told me of his sword as we returned to the Silent City. See, I had done much research over my years in the City, and had read an old passage saying that only the power of the angels could reverse the runes of the Silent Brothers, and release them from their vows. He had lost the sword over the course of the battle, but I vowed to find it and try to regain my old life.

'It took me several weeks to find it, after the war was over. The battle had sprawled over a large part of Brooklyn, and Valentine hadn't been sure where he'd lost it. Mundanes had mistaken it for various things, so it had been moved and binned and all sorts. It took ages to track it down, but when I found it... Well…' Jem slid his sleeve up to his left elbow. The group saw a white scar stretching across his forearm. 'It felt like I was burning on the inside. I lost consciousness a few times, but when I came around properly, I realised I could see. Not like the Silent Brothers – properly. After a hundred and thirty years, I was human again.' Jem glanced at Tessa, whose expression softened as she reached for his hand, twining her fingers with his.

Magnus still looked shocked. 'How did you find each other again? I mean, regular Nephilim can't simply summon a warlock from the Spiral Labyrinth, and news doesn't reach the Labyrinth often either – even something as abnormal as this.'

Tessa laughed. 'We had a standing meeting in London every year in early January. This year, when he arrived for it, to my surprise, he was mortal.'

Clary suddenly spoke: 'And you didn't know before he just showed up? I would have killed him.'

Tessa grinned. 'Well, that would have somewhat defeated the point.'

The group laughed. Tessa and Jem exchanged a fond look as they unconsciously mirrored each other's body language. Clary marvelled at how young they looked, and how easy it seemed for them to fall back into the relationship they had apparently had over a century previously. They appeared totally comfortable with each other, no barriers, as though they each told the other everything. As though the other was someone they could rely on completely. Clary only wished she could have the same – that every secret between her and Jace could be stripped away, that every fear became inconsequential when they were together. _Never mind_ , she chided herself. _It will all be over soon_.


	4. Chapter 4

Jace was eyeing her worriedly, obviously unsure how to interpret her silence. She met his gaze and opened her mouth. 'Jace, I–'

'Jace! Clary!'

Jonathan was waving at the newlyweds from the other side of the lawn, beckoning them over to join the two sets of parents that had come together for photographs of the family. For a mythical society where mundane technology supposedly didn't work, Shadowhunters were strangely addicted to pictures. Perhaps the perpetual fear of imminent death had something to do with the wish to keep records of faces, families and friends.

Clary's ruminations were cut short as she and Jace reached their parents. Celine Herondale had died giving birth to Jace, at which point his father Stephen had disappeared for years, leaving Jace in the care of Michael Wayland. Upon his return to Idris, the Mortal War had broken out, so Stephen joined Valentine in the struggle against Hodge Starkweather, despite only meeting his son a few days before. Michael and Stephen had fallen in the same battle, and as a tribute to his parabatai Michael, Robert Lightwood had taken Jace in at the age of ten. He and his wife Maryse already had three children, but the addition of Jace had merely added a new link to the Lightwood chain.

Maryse stepped forward to embrace Clary, as Robert looked on with a smile. The Inquisitor, despite being physically imposing, seemed to have an innate fear of publicly demonstrating affection – a trait he had passed on to Alec. As Maryse released Clary, her husband awkwardly stuck out his hand for her to shake. With an inward eyeroll, Clary grasped his hand and shook it.

'Welcome to the family, Clarissa. Clary.' He corrected himself as he caught sight of Jace's raised eyebrow. Although they had been a couple since they were sixteen, Robert's job meant he was often working when most Shadowhunters weren't, so he didn't know Clary well, despite her frequent visits to Lightwood Manor. Much of what he knew of his new daughter-in-law came from memories of Valentine, with whom he had worked closely before and during the Mortal War as heads of important Institutes – the Lightwoods leading the New York Conclave, and the Morgensterns temporarily at the head of the London Enclave. Calling her Clarissa was something he had picked up from her father, but Clary never corrected him – it was like having Valentine back, even just for a moment.

Clary stepped back, dropping his hand and tucking herself under Jace's arm. 'It's a good one to be a part of,' she said. Out of the corner of her eye she saw Jonathan waving over other family members. 'Now I have another three siblings – although I'm not sure if that's a good thing yet. Isabelle really doesn't need another form of blackmail against me – the fact that she is now my sister just means she has more leverage to get me to do things that aren't necessarily my choice.'

'They may not always be your choice, but they're always what you need to do!' Isabelle appeared beside them, and taking Clary and Jace's hands, dragged them over to Alec and Simon, who were standing in a slightly awkward silence. They were good friends, but Alec's generally introverted nature combined with Simon's relationship with his sister meant it was rarely a good idea to leave the pair alone.

'Yeah, because learning how to fight a Rahab demon in six-inch heels and a minidress is definitely an essential skill.' Clary grinned at her friend, who smiled angelically.

'If I don't teach you how, what would happen if you were on a date and were attacked?'

'I'm not sure she would need to defend herself. I would save her heroically long before she had to do anything.' Jace took on a martyred air. 'But I would be tragically struck down while defending her honour, and would die an agonising death at the hands – well, talons – of the fearful beast. Clary would live on, torn apart by grief, but with a son with my eyes that she could take com- hey!' This last part was interrupted by Jace's cry of pain-slash-annoyance at Clary's sharp punch on his shoulder. He looked at her apologetically, but his expression turned from ashamed to puzzled as she avoided his eyes. 'Was I monologuing again? You probably did the right thing stopping me, I could have gone on for ages…' Jace broke off again. Turning to Isabelle, he said, 'Hey, Iz? Head over to Luke and ask if the cameras are ready? Oh, and you might want to take your brother and Lovelace with you, before things get _really_ awkward with them.'

'Since when do you care about… Oh right.' Isabelle stopped herself, noticing Jace's pointed look. Turning to her brother and her boyfriend, she caught each of them by the hand and dragged them towards Luke as the boys shared an awkward, yet somehow relieved, glance.

Clary watched Izzy and her boys head over to her parents, then realised that Jace was just standing there, not saying anything but simply gazing at her intently.

'What?'

'You've been acting strange for days. What's the matter? Did I say something? Did someone else? Tell me, Fairchild – sorry, _Herondale_ – and we can fix it. But if you want me to help, you need to tell me.' Jace's voice, which had started out worried, had made the transition to simply earnest as he surveyed his new wife.

'Nothing's wrong.' Clary forced herself to meet his eyes. 'Just nervous about the wedding, I guess.' Jace looked sceptical. 'What, like you've been a bridegroom before? Don't tell me you weren't nervous – Alec said you almost refused to go to your own bachelor party because you were worried you'd still be drunk today. And since that was two days ago, and since you can hold your alcohol like nobody's business, that didn't seem like a valid reason.'

He still didn't seem to believe her, but before he could go back on the offensive, Luke waved the couple over.

The photoshoot took forever. Everyone wanted a picture with the newlyweds. Which was fair enough on one level – the boy who had defeated Hodge Starkweather by sacrificing himself, and the girl who had brought him back with the help of the Angel Raziel. But at the same time, Clary couldn't cope with the constant attention, people watching her every move, able to see every tiny crack in her mask of composure. Jace knew something was wrong, and she knew she had to tell him… but not yet. She wasn't ready for that confrontation.


	5. Chapter 5

Pictures finally over (why had she given in to Luke? She hated photographs anyway – she preferred to be taking the pictures than being in them, but on her wedding day she didn't really have a choice…), Jocelyn led the family into the marquis that had been set up on the other side of Fairchild Manor. The rest of the guests fell in behind the combined forces that were the Greymarks, the Lightwoods, Magnus and his adoptive sons, and Simon and Jonathan – Clary's two brothers, one by blood and one by choice.

The guests made their way towards the tables set up around the edge of the marquis, where bottles of wine and champagne were waiting, along with small piles of chocolates (all chosen by Jonathan and Jace, Clary having tasted a few and declared herself unfit for the challenge). The newlyweds, Simon and Isabelle, and Alec and Magnus sat themselves at the top table, Alec looking distinctly uncomfortable at everyone being able to see him. Magnus took his hand under the table and started drawing random shapes on the back of it with his finger, which appeared to have a calming effect on his boyfriend – he leaned back, no longer ramrod straight in his chair, a shy half-smile on his face.

Once everyone settled down, Jace rose from his seat and waited for silence.

'So now that the official part of the day has come to an end, the party can begin! Everyone grab a glass and fill it to the brim,' he said, matching the actions to his words. 'Would you all please be upstanding and join me in a toast before the real fun – and chaos – of the event can begin.' There was a general wave of laughter and conversation from all corners of the marquis as people complied with his instructions. As the room fell silent again, Jace raised his glass of champagne. 'To the future!'

'To the future!' The shout resounded through the tent and across the lawns of Fairchild Manor. Jace met Clary's gaze and nodded once as he drank. Clary blushed and sipped from her glass. She was feeling a bit dizzy, but felt better as Jace laced his fingers with hers, steadying her. He drew her towards him slowly, and despite being in front of their gathered friends and family, kissed her gently and sweetly, a kiss of reverence and love and hope.

Clary tried to lose herself in the kiss, to not think of anything but Jace, but she couldn't shake the questions that had plagued her for days: _Does he know? Should she tell him? What would he say?_

The sound of applause drew her back to reality. The couple broke apart and shared an embarrassed smile as the room shook with laughter. Jace sketched an overexaggerated bow and Clary rolled her eyes at her husband's antics. A few people in the marquis wolf-whistled, provoking another round of laughter.

Suddenly, Clary's attention was diverted from her ridiculous husband to her new not-exactly-mother-in-law. Maryse Lightwood was making her way up from her seat to the front of the marquis. She reached the top table and stood just next to and in front of it. The room quietened as they noticed her standing there, and an expectant hush filled the tent.

'I would like to impose my presence on you here for only a few short minutes, as I have an important announcement to make. But first, congratulations to the married couple!' Jace and Clary both nodded their thanks as the marquis erupted into applause once again. 'Secondly, I wish to announce that I will be stepping down as the Head of the New York Institute to return to Idris to help start up the Shadowhunting Academy after its twenty years of closure.' The room burst into frenzied whispers at this unexpected news. 'However, I have spoken to the most senior members of the Clave about my successors, and they have agreed to allow me to offer the position to those whose union we are here to celebrate: Jace and Clary Herondale.'

Clary's head whipped round to look at Jace, asking silently whether he knew anything about Maryse's offer. He looked about as perplexed as she felt, so she deduced Maryse had kept her plan completely secret. Clary raised her eyebrows, and when Jace shook his head, still in shock, she stood and addressed Maryse.

'We appreciate your faith in us, and are honoured by your offer, but I think we need some time to discuss it properly. As you can see, we've had several other things occupying us recently.'

A few people chuckled at her understatement while Maryse nodded in acceptance. The bubble of conversation grew and grew as Jace and Clary stared at each other in shock for several seconds. The moment was broken by Jace running his hand through his hair and declaring, 'I need a drink.' He reached for the bottle in front of them and poured himself a large glass, before offering Clary one. She refused, with a darting glance down at herself. Jace shrugged and took a long drink when he froze.

Clary's heart sank. Jace replaced his champagne flute very precisely on the table in front of him before turning his head slowly to look at her directly. He took a deep breath, and then another one.

'Clary.' His voice was controlled, tense.

She made a face. 'Yeah?'

'You've been acting strange for weeks now. First you won't help choose the chocolates because you said you weren't up to it. You're up to everything – especially if it involves chocolate. Then you shut me up for talking about leaving you alone with a son. Now you seem off balance and you aren't drinking. Clary. Please tell me if I'm right or if I'm adding two and two and getting seventeen.'

Clary shut her eyes for a second, regaining control of herself. She met Jace's gaze and nodded, a tiny movement that was almost imperceptible. His eyes widened. 'By the Angel,' he breathed. 'This is really happening? We're really going to be parents?' Clary nodded again, a smile growing on her pale face. Jace's face broke into the biggest grin Clary had ever seen, and he wrapped his arms around her as silent tears of happiness and relief started running down her face.

Jace finally released her with a kiss on the cheek. Clary smiled but turned to Isabelle who was staring at her with mounting horror. 'What HAPPENED?' she hissed.

'Tissue first, explanation later,' Clary countered. Izzy rolled her eyes but fished around in her clutch for a handkerchief. As Clary dabbed at her eyes carefully, trying not to disturb her makeup any more than she already had – thank the Angel for Isabelle's use of waterproof mascara! – Isabelle eyed her with an expression that was somewhere between disapproval and curiosity.

'Well?' Isabelle's curiosity had obviously overcome her irritation, and she was now waiting expectantly for an answer. Clary looked over at Jace, who still appeared slightly shell-shocked, but his eyes were glowing in awe. He realised his wife was watching him, and raised his eyebrows questioningly. Clary glanced back at Izzy and mouthed, ' _Do I tell her_?' Jace thought for a second before shrugging as though saying, ' _Your call'_.

Clary turned back to Isabelle, who was fast growing impatient. Steeling herself, Clary decided to go with the shortest explanation.

'Jace just worked out I'm pregnant.' Isabelle gasped, eyes widening is amazement. Clary hurried on, now the worst was over. 'Izzy, you can't go round telling everyone. I mean it! I'm still coming to terms with the idea, and Jace only just found out, so it seems a bit strange for everyone else to find out now.'

Isabelle pursed her lips, clearly unhappy at having to keep such a momentous thing secret. 'Can I at least tell Simon?' she said, darting a quick look at her boyfriend. 'I mean, as your parabatai, he deserves to know, right? Doubly so, as your best friend's boyfriend. And-'

'I get it!' Clary interrupted. 'Yes, you can tell Simon. But not instantly. Wait a bit – I'm pretty sure people will be wondering what the commotion is, and I'd rather it didn't look like we were playing Chinese Whispers.'

Isabelle nodded her assent, then wrapped Clary in a tight hug. 'I'm so happy for you!'

'Thanks, Iz,' Clary managed, getting teary-eyed again. 'Now let me go before I stain your dress!'

Isabelle released her, allowing her to dry her fresh tears. Clary realised that everyone else in the marquis was looking at her expectantly. Then she noticed that Jace had once again risen from his seat, and concluded that she was not the object of people's focus, so joined her attention to theirs and concentrated on Jace.

'Now that we're all feeling better for having had a drink – or drinks, I'm not judging – would everyone please gather round the dance floor for the official first dance.'


	6. Chapter 6

Jace took Clary's hand and led her to the centre of the marquis, where a large space had been left clear to act as a dance floor. With the guests congregated around the edge of the floor, all eyes on the newlyweds, the music began. Jace's gaze met Clary's; she blushed as she lifted her skirt and placed her hand in Jace's.

Wise men say

Only fools rush in

But I can't help

Falling in love with you.

The pair started moving, slowly turning in a small circle. Their eyes met and locked, a shy smile playing on both their mouths. They had chosen this song because it had been one of Valentine's favourites, but was also a song Jace often played when Clary was away – a fact she had found out by accident when she came home a few days earlier than expected from a trip to Idris.

Shall I stay

Would it be a sin?

If I can't help

Falling in love with you.

Clary had wanted to surprise him with her early return, so upon arriving at the Institute had gone up to Jace's room, only to find music coming from behind the door. This in itself wasn't unusual, but the sheer emotion that was emanating from the sound made the notes feel as though they were coming alive.

Like a river flows

Surely to the sea

Darling so it goes

Some things are meant to be.

She had stood there in silence, instinctively knowing this was not something meant to be heard by anyone other than Jace. Her instinct, as usual when it came to Jace, was proven to be correct as he started singing. He never sang properly, which made this simple song that much more enchanting, his rough voice simply sketching out the melody at first, then warming up into something gorgeous.

Take my hand

Take my whole life too

For I can't help

Falling in love with you.

Clary had leaned back against the wall, letting the slow notes wash over her in a soothing stream. Her heartbeat slowed to match the beat of the music, the rush of her blood becoming part of its rhythm. Her eyes closed of their own accord, allowing her to experience the music in some deep, hidden part of herself that was almost always locked away.

Like a river flows

Surely to the sea

Darling so it goes

Some things are meant to be.

Barely conscious of her actions, Clary had reached for the doorknob and opened the door silently. Jace, of course, noticed the movement, but didn't stop playing. Or singing. His eyes locked on hers; only then did she notice she had been crying. Her lips twitched into a half-smile as she took a deep breath and joined him, their two voices melding in harmony, hers soaring high above in a descant, his strong and sure in the simple but ageless melody.

Take my hand

Take my whole life too

For I can't help

Falling in love with you.

Jace spun her round the dance floor, holding her carefully as though she were made of glass. Their eyes hadn't left each other's since the start of the song. After a final turn on themselves, the pair stayed on the spot and simply swayed to the music, Clary stepping closer to lean against Jace's chest. He rested his cheek on the top of her head, then started singing, barely loud enough for even Clary to hear.

For I can't help

Falling in love with you.

The song ended, but the newlyweds just stayed where they were. Clary lifted her head to look at Jace, who leaned down and kissed her softly. Both were smiling when the guests started clapping and cheering, with the occasional whistle thrown in for good measure.

As the next song began, couples started joining them on the dance floor, only one or two at first, then more as more people recognised the music and realised there were enough people shielding them from view that they felt less self-conscious. Soon almost everyone was on the floor, dancing and laughing. Even little Raphael and Valentina were twirling each other, hands clasped tightly and spinning round in a circle. Honestly it was closer to a competition to see who could make the other fall over than real dancing.

And you can tell everybody

This is your song

It may be quite simple but

Now that it's done

I hope you don't mind,

I hope you don't mind,

That I put down into words

How wonderful life is

While you're in the world.

Now that the attention was mostly off them, Jace and Clary felt free enough to talk. Jace drew his wife in closer, then whispered in her ear:

'What do you think?'

'About what?' Jace could hear Clary's smile in her voice. 'Several things have happened in not very much time. A lot of news. A lot of things to talk about. We got married. We're having a baby. We might have a new job. And that was just the last hour and a half. Who knows what'll happen in the rest of the night?'

'True. But at this particular moment in time I was asking about Maryse's offer. Should we take the job? I mean, it's a lot of responsibility, and although we've watched our parents manage Institutes most of our lives, that doesn't mean we're ready to do it ourselves…' Jace trailed off.

Clary stepped back slightly so she could see his face. What she saw there surprised her more than she thought it should, given that she already suspected it to be the case.

Jace was scared.

He could take on a pack of fully grown Moloch demons without batting an eyelid. He had been killed in the Battle of Brocelind Plain and yet was still unafraid of dying again. He could deal with Jonathan and Simon together when they were hungry and would appear unflappable (although standing between the pair of them and food was generally a very bad idea). But offer him a job and he no longer knew what to do with himself. Clary might have laughed if she herself hadn't been terrified.

'Jace, I don't think…' Clary began. Then she realised that she had no idea where that sentence was going, so started again. 'Look, Maryse wouldn't have offered us the job if she didn't think we were up to it. And it's not as though we're going to get another offer like this for years if we turn it down. And you're the one always saying it's best to learn on the job, where you don't get lulled into a false sense of security about how much pressure there is when it's a real situation-'

'Okay, okay, I get it!' Jace laughed quietly. 'What I'm hearing is… you think we should take it?'

Clary stopped short. Was that what she had been saying? She had been trying to convince Jace that they could do it if they wanted. But did that mean she wanted to? The answer came to her simply and suddenly, and she knew there had never really been another response.

'Yes. Yes, I think we should.'

Jace nodded slowly, then a smile spread across his face. 'In that case… let's enjoy tonight, because I think tomorrow is going to get a whole lot more stressful.' With that, he spun her under his arm and launched into a series of difficult steps as the music changed over a smooth bridge to a song that matched her thoughts aptly enough that Clary wondered if Jace hadn't somehow seen the future when he set up the playlist.

Dancing through life

Swaying and sweeping

And always keeping cool

Woes are fleeting

Blows are glancing

When you're dancing through life.

 **The songs used in this chapter (in order), were**

 **Can't Help Falling in Love by Elvis Presley**

 **Your Song by Elton John**

 **Dancing Through Life from Wicked.**

 **Full credits to the songwriters and singers of all of the above.**


	7. Chapter 7

Alec Lightwood was sitting at the top table. He was watching his adoptive son dance with Clary's sister. They were four and seemed more comfortable in his world than he was. How was that possible? He had spent the first eighteen years of his life becoming the perfect Shadowhunter: dedicated, loyal, dutiful, obedient and a thousand other things that set them apart from mundanes, all the while oblivious to how free and honest their lives were, even as he hid part of himself from everyone except his sister. Then Clarissa Fairchild had come into his life, having come out of hiding with her parents and Lucian Greymark as they tried to convince the Clave Hodge Starkweather was on the move again, searching for them and for a way to 'cleanse' the world of Downworlders and demons alike. She and her brother had been living among mundanes their whole lives, with the Shadow world kept secret from them, until Clary was attacked by a Ravener demon on her way home from a club. Had Jace not been following her (' _I was_ not _following her, Alec. I was tracking the demon. It just so happened to be following her_.') she would have died.

She woke up in the New York Institute infirmary, and from that moment on Alec's view on his world and that of the mundies had changed. He hadn't liked her much at the start, nor she him, but that hadn't stopped her from showing him – showing them all – that Shadowhunters could learn from mundanes. They fought for no reason at all, and had, as a general rule, very little purpose in life, but sometimes they did get things right. Over time, with the sheer donkey-minded stubbornness of a small number of people, they could change. Change themselves, change their minds and the minds of others. Prejudices were no small thing to try to erase, and they were rarely totally successful, but when the majority accepted that they were wrong, that those labelled 'different' were not so different after all, the battle was all but won.

Shadowhunters, not so much. Not yet at least. For centuries, if you had feelings for someone that could not eventually result in a child (parabatai excepted), you had to hide those feelings, lest the Clave deem you unworthy or unfit for the service of the Angel. Alec had realised that he had such feelings for Jace – both a guy _and_ his parabatai, the ultimate dishonour – when he was fourteen years old, and had spent the subsequent four years pretending he didn't feel the way he did – or at least, not doing anything that might suggest otherwise.

His plan had worked for all of three months before Isabelle had waltzed into his room, announced vaguely that his secret was safe before wandering back out again. They never spoke of that incident again until after Clary confronted him about his crush on Jace. He'd pinned her against the wall in a fit of anger and fear of discovery, then had released her and had run to Izzy's room. She'd taken one look at his face, anguish and dread written on every line and every feature, and guessed that something had snapped inside him.

'By the Angel, Alec, what happened?' Isabelle gasped. She'd never seen her calm, collected older brother with so much emotion so plainly visible.

'Clary,' he choked out. 'She knows. And I don't know if she's like you. If she'll be… discreet. I pissed her off, Iz, I really did. I hit her head against the wall. I don't even know why. I just saw red. If Jace finds out… I don't think I could take it.' He was breathing in short, raw gasps, gulping down air as though he was about to drown. Alec scrunched his eyes shut and tried to slow his heart rate, which was galloping like a horse.

'If Jace finds out what? What part of this do you think he'll take offense at, exactly? That you care for him as deeply as anyone can? That someone made you angry and you overreacted, for once in your life? Or is it the idea of someone being able to see a part of yourself you're trying to hide?' Isabelle sighed, then hurried on as Alec glared at her. 'As much as I hate seeing you like this, maybe this could be a good thing. You can't get through life with just me and Jace at your side. Jonathan and Clary might be exactly what you need.'

Although he would never admit it out loud, Izzy had been right. Clary had helped him realise that his feelings were valid, that they were part of him, and that if he truly wanted to be the perfect Shadowhunter, what better way to do it than by being honest with his family? He got over Jace – which Clary also helped him with, albeit unwittingly. Once Clary and Jace became an item, Alec realised that he and Clary both had part of Jace's heart – the Shadowhunter and the Mundane. Loyalty and love. Working together and bringing Alec and Clary closer – especially as a united front when Jace was being a prat (which was often).

As much as he had hated her when she had first come to the Institute, now he was grateful for her friendship, not least because she was the one who had (inadvertently) given him the courage to reply to Magnus's fire message, asking how his leg was healing, and wondering if he might want a drink to take the pain away a bit? Had Jace not been following her and brought her into their lives, Alec wouldn't have his – ahem – _magical_ husband and his adoptive son. Nor would gay or Shadowhunter-Downworlder marriages be relatively widely accepted – although a marriage that was both definitely pushed the boundaries of the admittedly reluctant Clave a bit.

Alec's ruminations were cut short by a husky voice sounding in his ear. 'It might never happen, you know.'

'Come again?' Alec glanced up at the smiling face of the High Warlock of Brooklyn, Honorary Member of the Clave, and holder of a seat on the Shadowhunter Council. In short, his husband, Magnus Bane.

'You looked like hell was staring you in the face and you decided to stare back.' Alec could hear the laughter in Magnus's voice, even as he caught sight of the worry in his eyes.

'You forget, we've been to Hell. It doesn't scare me.' Alec raised his chin almost defiantly, but instantly felt like a petulant child and tried to backtrack. 'I mean, I was just thinking. About Clary. And Jace. And us. And everything that's happened in the last six years. And – what?' Alec stopped, noticing the twinkle in his husband's eye and the half-smile on his lips.

'Sometimes you're just so… human!' Magnus laughed.

Alec reddened. 'In a good way, or…?'

Magnus realised he'd hit a nerve and was instantly serious again. Only a being who had lived for centuries could make the transition from joy to anger to gravity and back again in seconds. It was exhausting trying to keep up at times, but Alec loved watching him do it, seeing the many facets of his personality come out in quick succession.

Magnus caught Alec's hand in his own, twining their fingers together as he sat down in the seat next to him. 'Alexander. My Alexander. When I say you act like a human, it is a compliment.' Alec raised an eyebrow. 'I mean it. I envy you for your humanity. For your ability to remember your whole lives, even the things you might wish to forget. For your tendency to focus on one small thing until someone helps you step back and see the bigger picture. I wish I could remember how to do that. But as it is, I get to see you doing it every day, and for that I am grateful.' Magnus raised their entwined hands to his lips and kissed the back of Alec's hand.

Alec hated having to be reassured, even though he knew that no one he cared about would ever judge him for it – especially Magnus. Eighteen years of hiding his secrets with no one but Isabelle to trust had left their mark, which despite his best efforts, refused to disappear completely.

Sensing his discomfort, Magnus leaned towards his husband and whispered, 'Dance with me.'

Far from dissipating Alec's uneasiness, these three words seemed to have made things far worse. Alec froze, eyes widened in horror and chest barely even moving, suggesting that he had stopped breathing. Magnus pursed his lips and stood. Still holding Alec's hand, he pulled his husband to his feet and led him to the darkest corner of the dance floor.

'Magnus, I don't think… I mean, I can't… I don't know–'

Magnus cut him off with a kiss. Their lips met and Alec breathed again. His eyes fluttered shut as he drew Magnus closer to him, running his hands over his shoulders, down his back and back up again before locking around his neck. There was only a two-inch height difference between them, but Alec often slouched in a futile attempt to avoid being noticed, resulting in what appeared to be a far greater discrepancy.

I have died every day waiting for you

Darling don't be afraid I have loved you

For a thousand years

I'll love you for a thousand more.

Magnus drew away slowly, running his thumb along Alec's cheekbone one last time. His hands settled just above Alec's hips, all the while keeping him close.

'What was that for?' Alec murmured.

Magnus smirked. 'A distraction.' Unbeknownst to Alec, preoccupied as he was, Magnus had started moving in a slow circle. Although it wasn't much, it still qualified as 'dancing,' which was all Magnus wanted: to dance with his husband in front of friends and family, who would see it as the message it was – _I love this man, he is mine, and nothing anyone says will make that stop._

'Dance with me, Alexander,' Magnus whispered. 'I won't let you fall.'

Alec danced, and for once, forgot about what others thought of him.

All along I believed I would find you

Time has brought your heart to me

I have loved you for a thousand years

I'll love you for a thousand more.

 **The song used in this chapter was A Thousand Years by Christina Perri. Full credits to the artist and the songwriters.**


	8. Chapter 8

Couples had been forming and breaking apart seemingly at random, each dance bringing a new face, a new conversation, a new piece of advice. Clary could hardly keep track of who she was dancing with at that particular moment in time, the transitions came so quickly. Jonathan, Simon, Luke, Robert Lightwood, and even Patrick Penhallow had all claimed her for a dance, to say nothing of Jace, who somehow managed to swing it so that he found her at the end of every song for one of his own. Magnus had somehow convinced Alec to dance, and they were swaying in the corner of the floor, in a world of their own.

Jace appeared again, as if by magic, just as a new song began. Shaking her head, she waved her hand in the vague direction of the seats arranged at the edge of the dance floor. He caught her meaning instantly, and slipped an arm around her waist, a silent reassurance that he was there. Clary collapsed onto a chair with a big sigh as the pressure on her feet was relieved. Jace pulled her closer and her head fell onto his shoulder, her eyelids drifting shut. The music washed over them, reminding the newlyweds of where they were, even as they took a break from the intensity and excitement of the party.

'You know what I really need right now?' Clary mumbled.

'What?' Jace replied, the amusement in his voice clear as glass.

'A drink.' Jace laughed. 'I'm serious. I need a drink to take the edge off – it's been a long day, and although it's obviously been a good one, this many people focussing on us for this long is a lot to deal with.'

'Are you sure that it would be a good idea?' Jace asked. 'I don't know much about pregnancy, but I'm pretty sure drinking is a big no-no.'

'Please? It doesn't have to be strong. Anything. I don't care. But I think I have a right to drink on my own wedding day, don't you?' Jace's eyes lit up with a mischievous light as Clary tilted her head to look at him hopefully.

'Fine. But don't blame me if you react badly – you aren't all that great with alcohol on a good day. And after this much excitement, the end result may not be pretty. Especially with all the added hormones.' Jace grinned and headed for the bar at the far end of the marquis. Clary sat back with a small smile. Jace could never resist helping her with anything – and the Angel only knows she didn't ask often.

'Hey, Clary?'

Clary sat up straight, looking around until she found the source of the voice calling her name. Julian Blackthorn was carefully making his way towards her, meticulously avoiding every guest in his path. He gestured to the seat next to hers, eyebrows rising questioningly. Clary smiled in assent and Julian sat down, shifting uncomfortably in his seat.

'What's up?'

Julian winced, realising that whatever confession he had to make, the time for it had arrived. He swallowed, then took a deep breath, screwing up his courage. 'It's Emma.'

A small smile started to spread across Clary's face. 'Of course it is.'

Julian shot her a look. Then he sighed and continued, 'She asked me if I wanted to be parabatai.'

Clary's eyes widened in surprise and she sucked in a breath. Julian barely noticed as he carried on. 'What do I do? If we're parabatai, I know she'll never leave me. I want her to be there for me, all the time, to have my back when we go out on a mission, for her to stay with me when I'm hurt, to help me with the kids when my parents are away… But she does that already. We don't need to be parabatai for that.'

Julian stopped himself abruptly and stared out over the dance floor, searching the crowd. His gaze stopped on a couple dancing at the edge of the chaos. His face closed off and the light seemed to fade from his eyes. Clary followed his line of sight and registered who he was watching Emma dance with.

Mark Blackthorn. Julian's older brother.

His time in the Seelie Court until his recent release meant he hadn't aged in the four years between his kidnapping and his return to Los Angeles. Although the war against Hodge Starkweather and his son, Sebastian, had lasted less than a year, the Clave had only managed to secure his release the previous year, so while technically he was 23, he looked barely older than he had five years ago. Since his return, Mark had spent a few months with his family, completed his training, and had chosen to go to Australia to help rebuild the Sydney Institute, which Sebastian Starkweather had destroyed in one of his raids.

Emma was laughing at something Mark had said. He was holding her hand tightly, and spun her round quickly, resulting in another round of laughter. He pulled her close, whispering in her ear, and something changed in his gaze, the mirth leaving his features, morphing into something far more serious.

'Oh, Julian,' Clary breathed. A muscle feathered in the younger boy's jaw as he watched the boy who was now both family and foe dip his partner, her long blonde hair almost brushing the floor.

'Yeah.' Julian confirmed. 'I don't know what to do. If she falls for him, I don't know if I could take it. Not him. It could have been anyone else, but it had to be him. And being her parabatai while that happens? I don't need a front row seat to that.' Julian pinched the bridge of his nose. 'But at the same time, I can't leave. I can't stop.' His hand dropped to his lap, and his shoulders slumped, his head dropping to stare at his hands, now clenched so tightly that Clary wondered if they would ever come apart again. 'Who am I kidding? She _is_ a part of me. And although being parabatai is supposed to make us stronger, closer, _better_ –' at this point Julian's voice dropped to barely a whisper – 'I think it would kill me.'

He looked up at Clary for the first time since he'd sat down, his eyes far too full of anguish and heartbreak for one so young. All at once, Clary worked out why he had come to her with this, rather than anyone else – Alec had loved Jace, his parabatai; Simon had loved Isabelle but couldn't tell her, not least because he had lost his memories; Magnus had lost hundreds of people he'd loved, who hadn't loved him back, or had loved him and then broken his heart. Julian could have gone to any of them, but he had come to her. Because she understood.

Because when she was his age, she had had the exact same look in her eyes. Because she had lost Jace when Hodge Starkweather stabbed him with the Mortal Sword. Because she still woke up screaming from nightmares where she relived that night, where she had to watch him die, over and over again as she was paralysed. Because nothing she ever did – not even bringing him back to life – could ever erase the fact that she had lost him, that he had been dead, that it had been her fault. Jace had come to save her when she had been kidnapped by Hodge, as he needed Morgenstern blood – blood of the fallen angel – to raise the Angel, and he had been killed in the process.

If Julian lost Emma to Mark, she would still live, still breathe, still laugh and dance and hope and dream and love– but he wouldn't. Even if they were parabatai, it wouldn't be enough. It could never be enough. She tethered him to the Earth, her warrior mind grounding his artist's heart. As parabatai, without that potential for _more_ , always more, Julian might physically be on Earth, but his mind and his soul would never return. They would be a million miles away, with no hope of returning, as he dreamed of a time, a place, _anything_ , where things would have been _different_ , where he could be happy.

Already Clary could sense he was drifting. Something in his eyes was different, slightly out of focus, slightly too far off. She reached out and took his hand, willing him to come back, even for a moment. He looked at her again, his gaze refocusing on her face.

'What do I do?' he repeated, his voice breaking fractionally in way that broke Clary's heart for him.

'The way I see it, you have two options,' Clary began gently. 'There are probably more, but this is the main decision. Either you let it run its course and do nothing, knowing that something could come of it, or not,' Clary added hastily, seeing Julian's eyes widen in fear and hearing his sharp gasp, even over the hubbub of the crowd and the music that was starting to thump through her head. 'Or you tell her.'

'But what can I tell her? That I've loved her every day since we were twelve years old? That I refused to leave my father's study for the four days it took for him to agree to let her live with us when her parents died, because I couldn't bear the thought of her being any further away than the other end of the LA Institute when she went through that kind of grief? That I want to rip my own heart out every time I see her even _look_ at Mark?' Julian ran his hands through his dark curls in distress. 'And what if I do? She doesn't care for me like that. I'll have ruined everything we have, and I won't ever get it back.'

'See, the thing is, Julian,' Clary said conversationally, 'I think she does.'

'Think she does what?' Julian mumbled, his face in his hands.

'Care for you like that. The same way you do. But I think the only way you can be sure is to ask her. Besides,' she continued as Julian lifted his head, a spark igniting somewhere deep inside him, the embers of which were visible in his eyes, 'who ever got what they wanted by concentrating on the worst-case scenario?' Clary stood and extended her hand towards him. He took it and got to his feet, suddenly towering over her. Clary smiled and added thoughtfully, 'Humanity has a very special gift, I think. The ability to hope.'

'Thanks, Clary.' She squeezed his hand once, then gave him a nudge in Emma's direction.

'Go. Talk to her.' Julian took a step towards his friend, away from Clary, then turned back to look at her beseechingly. She covered the short distance between them and whispered threateningly, 'Tell her, or I will give you a Fearless rune, at which point your rational judgement may become seriously impaired when it comes to how much you want to tell her at once.' Julian half smiled, even as his eyes gave away his terror.

'I'm going,' Julian said determinedly. His jaw set, shoulders back, thumbnail biting painfully into the pad of his forefinger, giving him a look of fierce focus, he looked every inch the warrior the majority of the Clave believed him to be. The artist, the dreamer, the protector – all of that seemed to disappear in the few seconds it took to cross the floor, cut in to Mark and Emma's dance, and ask Emma if he could talk to her. She nodded as Clary watched the pair, the younger girl's eyebrows furrowing in confusion.

'Your drink, my lady.' Clary turned to see Jace standing beside her, a glass of ginger beer in his hand. Clary raised an eyebrow before accepting his offering. 'It has hardly any alcohol but still counts – you did say anything!' he defended himself, noticing the dark look on Clary's face. 'If you don't want it I can –'

'Jace.' Clary cut him off.

'What?'

'Shut up.'

'Shutting.'

Jace was quiet for all of ten seconds as Clary sipped her ice-cold ginger beer.

'What happened with Blackthorn?'

Clary rolled her eyes. 'Is that really the limit of your silence?'

Jace waved off her attempt at changing the subject. 'Yeah, pretty much. What happened with Blackthorn?'

Clary was quiet for a minute, trying to decide how to explain the situation succinctly without betraying Julian's trust. 'Emma asked Julian if he wanted to be parabatai.'

Jace brightened visibly. 'That's amazing! But what about –'. The full implications about what it would mean for Julian suddenly hit him and his face fell. Even he could see what his friend was feeling. 'Right. I see the problem. And he came to you because…?'

'Because Mark is now involved. And because I get it. What it's like to lose someone forever.' Jace grew serious. They rarely spoke about what had happened that day on Lake Lyn, but he knew what she had gone through, from bits and pieces of conversations they'd had since.

'Shit.'

'Pretty much.'

'So what'd you say?'

'I told him to talk to Emma. And that I think she cares for him the way he does for her. And when he almost decided to put it off another day, I threatened to do what Alec almost did.' Jace laughed, as she did, remembering what a disaster had almost occurred when she'd given the Fearless rune to Alec for the first time. His parents had walked in, and he had almost announced (in front of the Inquisitor, no less) that he was dating Magnus. Although the way he had eventually come out was even more public, at the time the Fearless rune had been of no practical use whatsoever.

Jace stopped laughing and rapidly turned serious. 'You think he'll be ok?'

Clary faced her new husband, her eyebrows drawn together in thought. 'They're smart kids. They'll figure it out. And,' she continued in a lighter voice, 'if I'm right, he has nothing to worry about.'


	9. Chapter 9

'Emma, can I talk to you?'

Emma Carstairs tore her attention from Mark Blackthorn's joke about a lycanthrope, a vampire and a warlock walking into a bar to focus on his younger brother, who had appeared next to them. Julian Blackthorn's dark curls were sticking up at strange angles around his head, as though he had run his hands through his hair repeatedly. There was a wild look in his eyes that Emma recognised as his 'I-swear-by-the-Angel-if-I-can't-talk-to-you-Emma-Carstairs-I-will-scream' look. When they were younger it usually appeared when Helen, Mark and Andrew Blackthorn were out on a mission and he was in charge of the Institute, and one of his four younger siblings did something dangerous or stupid – which, when they were training, was often both. Emma always managed to calm him down, convince him there was nothing life-threatening in the cut Dru had given herself when she mistimed catching her throwing star, or that a dislocated bone could be fixed in seconds.

But why was he looking at her like this now? Andrew and Helen were there, along with Jace and Clary and about two dozen other qualified adults who could all deal with anything Dru or Tavvy got themselves into. Nothing she could see called for that look.

Which made her decision easy.

'Sure,' Emma nodded. Glancing apologetically at Mark, she let Julian lead her off the floor – well away from his brother.

They were out of earshot of pretty much everyone on the dance floor, but Julian kept walking, his hand holding on tightly to hers.

They left the marquis, passed the altar where Jace and Clary were married barely three hours ago, and kept going until they had emerged on the other side of a small grove of trees, Julian only stopping when they came to a small stream that marked the edge of the Fairchild estate. He pulled Emma towards a large, flattish rock, half-buried in the ground. As he sat, he kept hold of her hand and drew her down next to him. Thankfully for her dress, the rock was smooth and relatively clean, so that when they returned to the party, there wouldn't be any obvious marks on her skirt.

They sat in silence. Emma was tempted to ask what Julian wanted to talk about, but decided that he would tell her when he was ready. Instead she focused on the sky. In the two hours they had spent in the marquis, sunset had arrived, painting the sky in streaks of pink and purple and orange. The next row of trees was a good three hundred metres away, across the creek, meaning they had a perfect view of the sun setting behind the trees, the final flashes of bright light gleaming through the gaps between the boughs and leaves. Emma tipped her head back to watch two lilac clouds chase each other across the sky, pushed by the gentle summer breeze. She was grateful for the breath of cooler air after the heat of the marquis, especially when combined with at least an hour of dancing.

She had spent much of the reception with Mark, who had just got back from nine months at the Sydney Institute, where he had decided to spend a year after turning eighteen, in time-honoured Shadowhunter fashion. He had only returned upon receiving the invitation to Jace and Clary's wedding, but wasn't sure if he wanted to go back for another three months. He hadn't spoken to his father about his doubts yet – or the Head of the Sydney Institute, for that matter – but had confided in Emma and Julian, in the hopes that together they could come up with a legitimate reason why he could stay that sounded better than 'I really hate the spiders.' Which, while it was true, was not the most Shadowhunter-esque feeling, and the Clave probably wouldn't accept it as genuine grounds for not fulfilling the year Mark had signed on for in Australia.

Emma was snapped out of her reverie by Julian shifting on the rock next to her. They were sitting so close that his shoulder brushed against hers. He stopped so that he was facing vaguely in her direction, and she felt his shoulders rise as he took a deep breath.

'I can't be your parabatai, Emma.'

Whatever she'd been expecting, it wasn't that. Emma blinked in surprise – Julian had never disagreed with her on something so serious in their lives! They were always on the same wavelength. _Always_. They rarely even argued, they understood each other so well, and when they did, they often ended up arguing the same point in different ways.

She finally found her voice. 'Why not?'

Julian was looking at her strangely. She realised she hadn't sounded at all how she wanted to – offhand, mildly curious, but definitely not as though he had punched her with his rejection. All the breath had gone out of her, leaving her feeling winded. Something in her heart was icing over, a feeling like shards of metal were stabbing through her skin, as though tiny droplets of ice were being carried through her veins, cutting wherever they travelled.

Julian bit his lip – not quite hard enough to draw blood, but from his wince she could tell it was close. 'It wouldn't be fair.'

'Fair? Fair on who? You? Or on me?' Her voice, though still sounding slightly strangled, was coming more easily, as was her breath. Her heart, however, was starting to beat faster and harder.

'Either of us. Neither. Both!' Julian ran his hands through his hair and stood up, taking a few steps along the stream before turning back to her. 'I don't know, it just isn't. I'm sorry Emma, I can't do it, I won't watch you with him, not like that –'

'Jules, stop. You aren't making any sense! You won't watch me do what? With who?' Emma was fighting her growing anger, simply because of the look in Julian's eyes. She couldn't decipher what was running through his head, so many emotions were flitting across his face in such quick succession.

Julian shook his head. 'We don't need to be parabatai, Emma. That's basically what we are already!'

Emma stood, arms crossed in defiance. 'That's exactly my point. We're almost parabatai anyway, so why shouldn't we have the ceremony? What would it change?'

'It would change _everything_.' Emma's eyes narrowed slightly in confusion, but Julian kept talking. 'There would never be anything I could do. I would be your brother, but not in a way that meant my own brother couldn't –'. He caught himself. But not fast enough.

'That your brother couldn't what? Go on, Julian, by all means. Tell me what it is that your brother could still do if we were parabatai that you and I couldn't.' Even as the words left her mouth Emma realised what he was talking about.

 _Oh. Oh, oh, oh. Julian._

'You don't think… That me and _Mark_? By the Angel, Julian! Do you not know either of us at all?' Emma let out a short, incredulous laugh. 'He rode with the Wild Hunt for four years! He was whipped and beaten – for all we know, mentally tortured as well – just for being half-Shadowhunter! Don't you think that after all that time, he deserves a bit of kindness? Someone he can just talk to, who won't judge him, but who isn't so close to him that they know everything about him from before? The bits he still doesn't really remember?' Julian opened his mouth to say something, but she cut straight across him. 'Why would you ever think I wanted him like that? For one thing, it would make things incredibly awkward between you and me,' ('You have no idea,' Julian muttered, almost too quietly for Emma to hear) 'and for another, he's living in Australia! And, as we both know, neither of us has actually thought of a decent excuse for him to stay that the Clave would accept as legitimate. Also,' she added, almost as an afterthought, 'I'm pretty sure Mark is gay.'

Julian stared at her as though she had just arrived from another planet. 'Mark is gay?' Emma was brought up short by the amount of sheer relief in his voice.

'Well, bi,' she amended. 'I know he's had girlfriends before, but you know that faerie boy that sometimes just "drops by" with some information on the Seelie Court – what's his name, Kieran – he can't stop staring whenever he's in the room.'

Julian ran his hand through his hair again – why did she keep noticing that? – and let his head tip back so he was staring at the stars. His eyes fluttered shut, and he just stood there like a statue, only the small movement of his chest and the movement of his hair in the breeze suggesting he wasn't made of stone.

Emma remained silent for a few seconds, before crossing the short distance between them and laying her -hand on Julian's arm. She started writing, tracing the letters lightly with her finger. J-U-L-E-S, T-A-L-K T-O M-E.

Julian's eyes snapped open, his head tilting so that she couldn't see his face as he took a few steps away from her. 'I can't. Don't you get it, Emma? I can never go any further than this. I can never say what I want to say, because I couldn't bear for us to lose what we have. I couldn't live without you, Emma. I never will. But if I say what I'm thinking, you'll hate me for it. And I won't do that.'

Emma's heart stopped. 'I could never hate you, Julian,' she whispered. All she could see was the gradual rise and fall of his shoulders in the rapidly fading light. 'Jules, look at me.' He began shaking his head, an infinitesimal gesture that made her feel as though something inside her would snap. 'Please?' she added quietly, gently, some intrinsic part of her knowing that she had to move very carefully if they were both to survive this conversation intact. His shoulders slumped, but he turned to face her, slowly, almost painfully so.

'Tell me.' The only thought in her head was that she had to know what he was thinking. That if she knew, she could help him. That if she knew, he would feel better for having told someone. That if she knew, they would be Emma and Julian again, working together to deal with whatever life threw their way.

Julian bowed his head, almost as though he were praying, before lifting his head and meeting her eyes.

'Emma, I love you.'

Emma froze.

The only sound was the bubbling, gurgling noise of the brook to their right.

The pounding of the music coming from the marquis was barely audible, but the thumping of the bass still somehow reached them, making the ground tremble slightly, in time with the beat of Emma's heart.

Darkness was closing in, the last streaks of pink and purple fading away behind the trees.

'Emma.' Julian's voice broke the silence. 'Emma, please say something. Anything.'

She said nothing.

But she did move.

One step. Then another.

Until she was in front of Julian.

Until she was reaching up to lock her arms around his neck.

Until she was kissing him.

Years of yearning stretched behind her. Lying to herself, trying to convince herself it was just a crush, that it would fade in time. Lying to him. Julian. How could she ever have thought that was the right thing to do? She should have told him. She should never have decided becoming parabatai would stop her from having to tell him, that he didn't care for her like that. She should have seen how he was feeling, how his feelings mirrored hers.

His mouth slanted across hers, tracing the outline of her lips. His hands tightened on her hips, pulling her closer. The kiss deepened, their breaths coming faster as they tasted each other.

When she asked him to be parabatai, her entire body had been screaming at her. Wrong, wrong, _wrong_. But this?

This was right. This was all she needed.

He was all she needed.

Julian. Her Julian.

She kissed him again, harder. He groaned deep in his throat, hands wandering over her back, her shoulders, her sides, mapping out her body with every movement of his fingers. Her skin burned like fire wherever he touched. She ran her hands through his hair, fingers tangling in the dark curls that were as soft as silk, light as feathers.

She wrenched her mouth away from his, forcing herself to step away from him, even as her body ached for him, her heart beating wildly in her chest, almost as if it wanted to leap out and bury itself in him.

She stared at Julian. His eyes were shining like the stars wheeling above them, his hair mussed and his lips kiss-swollen. He looked more relaxed than he had in weeks. Months. How had she not seen how tense he was? How had he hidden what he felt all this time?

Emma realised she hadn't said anything yet. Meeting Julian's eyes, she backed towards the rock where their conversation had started, and sat down, reaching out her hand in invitation. He responded instantly, closing the distance between them and taking her hand, sitting himself down next to her.

'I have to tell you something.'

'What is it?' Julian spoke calmly, but a note of fear crept in at the end.

'It's important. It's so important that I have never told anyone, and once I tell you, I will never say this to anyone else. Ever.'

' _Emma_. What is it?' Julian repeated, his fear growing more pronounced with every word.

Emma took a deep breath and met his gaze shyly. 'I love you too.'

Julian's answering smile was bright enough to block out the moon. He leaned towards her, slowly, so slowly, that when their lips finally met, her main reaction was of relief. Relief that she would never have to wait so long for another kiss from Julian, from her Jules, whom she loved with all her heart, who had been by her side her whole life, and with any luck, would continue doing so for the rest of it.

 _Who needs a parabatai?_ Emma thought to herself when they eventually drew apart, invisible in the darkness. _I have Julian_.


	10. Chapter 10

The night was drawing to a close. People were coming to their last reserves of energy as they danced and laughed and drank their way to the end of the reception. But for one couple, the night was only just about to begin.

Simon Lovelace, né Lewis, lingered in the corner by the top table and faced the crowd, steeling himself for what was coming. Clary Herondale was at his side, returning the favour he had done her earlier in the day. She squeezed his hand, pulling him to face her. She smiled reassuringly, which he attempted to mimic, but which ended up as a grimace. Clary laughed at the face he was making, but not in a mocking way – more like a distraction. She wrapped her arms around him, holding on to him tightly, lending him her strength as they had done every day since they met – although it had become less metaphorical since Simon's Ascension and their parabatai ceremony.

'You're going to be fine,' she whispered in his ear. 'You got her to fall in love with you at least twice – this will be nothing compared to that.'

'Why did I decide to do it like this? So… publicly?' Simon shuddered. 'I should just… put it off. Wait til we get home. Take her out to a nice dinner. Or a romantic weekend away. Yes. I'll do that. Come on, Fray – Fairchild – dammit! – _Herondale_ – let's go.'

Clary was about to roll her eyes when the lights in the marquis all went out. A spotlight, brilliant in the sudden darkness, shone on a point about two metres from where the pair stood. A smile spreading across her mouth, Clary leaned over to him and murmured wickedly, 'Bit late now.'

Simon glared at her, before taking a deep breath and stepping into the spotlight.

'Hey, everyone,' he began. Clary could see him wincing at his clumsy start. 'I realise that this is a rather unusual situation, but I would like to request a song for someone very special. Jace?'

Heads turned in the direction Simon was looking, where Jace had appeared with a keyboard he had produced from the Angel only knows where. With a slightly sheepish grin on his face, he began playing the intro to a song that seemed vaguely familiar.

Simon grimaced again, almost as if he were asking himself why he was doing this, then took a deep breath and started singing, his experience in his band that never quite came up with a name invaluable when it came to this, his most important performance.

Though I've tried before to tell her  
Of the feelings I have for her in my heart  
Every time that I come near her I just lose my nerve  
As I've done from the start.

Clary recognised the song, but couldn't quite remember the name, nor who had sung it originally. All she knew was that it was relatively old, that it was very appropriate, and that it was completely and utterly Simon.

Every little thing she does is magic  
Everything she do just turns me on  
Even though my life before was tragic  
Now I know my love for her goes on.

She remembered the song now. She didn't know it well, but she did recall the first time she had heard it. The five of them – she, Izzy, Jace, Alec and Magnus – had just returned from the demon realm. She had killed Sebastian Starkweather after he had trapped them in that realm, having promised to leave the rest of the world alone, on the condition that she joined him. He had been obsessed with her, claiming that her father had betrayed his, that she owed him a blood debt, and that she would only fulfil it by becoming his queen.

Do I have to tell the story  
Of a thousand rainy days since we first met  
It's a big enough umbrella  
But it's always me that ends up getting wet.

She stabbed him with the sword she had imbued with Jace's heavenly fire, burning the part of him that was demonic – too big a part of him to be able to save the rest. After his death, the only escape from the demon realm was for Simon to give up his vampire immortality and his memories of the Shadow World. Upon their return to New York, Clary had gone to see if he remembered anything of his past life. He hadn't, but had invited her to one of his gigs. She and Isabelle went to watch, simply because of the name they were playing under at the time: the Mortal Instruments.

Every little thing she does is magic  
Everything she do just turns me on  
Even though my life before was tragic  
Now I know my love for her goes on.

They had played this song, and after Simon got his first lot of memories back (courtesy of some only slightly illegal magic on the part of Magnus Bane), he had always associated this song with Isabelle, and with her bringing him back to his old self.

I resolved to call her up a thousand times a day.  
And ask her if she'll marry me in some old fashioned way.  
But my silent fears have gripped me long before I reach the phone  
Long before my time has tripped me must I always be alone.

Jace stopped playing and everyone began whispering, heads twisting in an attempt to see Isabelle's reaction. As Simon sang, she had maneuvered herself through the crowd to be standing in front of him. She was glaring at him, in a way that anyone who didn't know her well would interpret as being annoyed, but Clary could tell it was to cover the fact that she was trying not to cry.

Simon held out his hand to her, a silent invitation. She stepped forward to take it, stepping into the spotlight with her boyfriend. He looked at her almost pleadingly, as though saying, ' _Please don't kill me for this_.'

Then he got down on one knee.

The whole room fell silent, everyone craning forward for a better vantage point. Isabelle had covered her mouth with her hand in shock, even though the huge, visible gesture was so unlike Simon she must have been tipped off that something was up.

'I realise this is the end of a long night, and that everyone is probably wanting to Portal home soon. So I'm going to keep this simple: Isabelle Lightwood. Izzy. Will you marry me?'

At this point Simon produced a ring from his pocket. Even from her spot a few metres away Clary could see the gleam of the diamond fixed into the simple gold band. Simon had been planning this almost as long as Clary had been planning her actual wedding, so he had done his research. It was both extravagant and understated, simple and detailed. Exactly like Isabelle.

Isabelle slowly lowered her hand from her mouth, her eyes brimming with tears. She opened her mouth to speak but found nothing would come out, so she simply nodded.

The room erupted. Everyone was cheering, whistling, laughing, pressing forward to congratulate the new fiancés. But they only had eyes for each other as Simon slipped the ring onto Izzy's finger, stood, and pulled her in gently for an ardent kiss. Isabelle melted into him, her body fitting to his as his arms wrapped around her waist, her arms twining around his neck. The music came back on, picking up where Simon and Jace's duet had finished.

Every little thing she does is magic  
Everything she do just turns me on  
Even though my life before was tragic  
Now I know my love for her goes on.

The pair finally drew apart, the crowd's wolf-whistling and cheering bringing a deep pink flush across both their faces. Isabelle glared at the people staring at them, then half-smiled as Simon sketched an elaborate bow. He held his hand out for hers, he tipped his head towards the floor, silently asking: _One dance just for us?_ Her fingers twined themselves through his, the diamond on her hand glinting in the bright witchlight, as he pulled her in towards him and stepped to the side to turn on the spot.

Oh yeah oh yeah oh yeah  
Every little thing, every little thing, every little thing, every little thing  
Every little, every little, ever little, every little thing she does  
Every little thing she does  
Every little thing she does  
Every little thing she does.

Simon spun her around under his arm, making them both laugh as he almost fell over – even his experience as a vampire, followed by Ascension couldn't make him completely sure-footed. Eventually he came to the conclusion that extravagant and showy dancing was going to get him nowhere, so pulled his new fiancée in close, wrapped his arms around her back and simply swayed on the spot, as Izzy leaned her head on his shoulder, fingers tangled in the hair at the back of his neck. They were still standing there, swaying slightly, long after the song ended, perfectly content in each other's arms in their own little bubble.

 **The song used in this chapter was 'Every Little Thing She Does is Magic' sung by the Police (although in some ways the version by Mitchel Musso seems more Simon-esque. You decide which is better). Full credits to the artist(s) and songwriter(s).**


	11. Chapter 11

Clarissa Herondale laced her arm through her husband's and smiled in delight. The wedding had been perfect – beautiful weather meant the ceremony could take place outside in the late summer sunshine. People had caught up with old friends they hadn't seen in months, if not years, in Magnus and Jem's case. She and Jace had been offered a new job – one that would set them on the path to helping Brooklyn recover from the horrors it had suffered at the hands of the Starkweathers – both young and old. Jace had found out she was pregnant, and had started preparing himself for this newest of challenges. Alec had actually danced in front of people with Magnus – something she definitely hadn't seen coming. Isabelle and Simon were finally engaged, and hadn't left each other's sides since Simon's proposal, and had hardly even stopped holding hands. And whatever Julian had said to Emma, or she to him, they had both returned to the marquis, Julian's arm around Emma's shoulders, eyes shining like the stars and the moon and the sun all at once.

 _All in all_ , she thought to herself, _that was a pretty good wedding._

But it wasn't quite over yet.

The intro to another song started playing, and Clary felt a tug on her arm. She looked up to see Jace's face smiling down at her. He had chosen this last song himself, as a reminder that they both had a place to go, that they both had a home, even if the best way to describe it was that they had found their home in each other, as cheesy as it may seem.

Almost heaven, West Virginia

Blue Ridge Mountain, Shenandoah river,

Life is old there, older than the trees,

Younger than the mountains, blowing like a breeze.

She rolled her eyes at his over the top enthusiasm, but took his hand and led him out onto the dance floor for one last dance. They weren't the only ones to notice what song it was, and the nostalgia that the song somehow brought out of everyone took hold of several people, who in turn dragged friends and partners onto the floor. Jace turned her to face him, one hand stealing around her waist, the other keeping hold of her hand. Looking into her eyes, he, very quietly, sang along to the decades-old words that still held meaning over 20 years later.

Country roads, take me home

To the place I belong,

West Virginia

Mountain mamma, take me home

Country roads.

Clary's lips twitched into a smile as they swayed on the spot in time to the music. More and more people were joining them on the floor, to the point where some were dancing by the tables rather than on the actual floor cleared for it. Izzy and Simon were staring into each other's eyes, utterly blind to the rest of the world. Magnus and Alec were back on the floor – twice in one night, that was really something – holding each other close, talking quietly.

All my memories, gather round her

Modest lady, stranger to blue water

Dark and dusty, painted on the sky

Misty taste of moonshine, teardrop in my eye.

Emma and Julian weren't even pretending nothing had happened anymore. Julian had his arms around Emma's waist, her hands splayed across his shoulders as they kissed, oblivious to the wolf-whistles being thrown their way. Luke and Jocelyn were standing at the side of the floor wordlessly, holding hands even as they watched Val, Tavvy, and Raphael, all sprawled across several chairs, half asleep due to the late hour.

Country roads, take me home

To the place I belong,

West Virginia,

Mountain mamma, take me home

Country roads.

When the second chorus came on, everyone sang along, quietly at first, but then increasing in volume as the feeling of the song spread through the tent. Clary turned her attention back to her husband, who leaned in to steal a quick kiss while everyone's attention was elsewhere. She smile up at him, this man who had seen her through some of the worst days of her life, this man she would give up anything and everything for – this man who was her home.

I hear her voice in the morning hour she calls me

Radio reminds me of my home far away.

Driving down the road I get a feeling

That I should have been home yesterday, yesterday.

Clary shot an apologetic look at Jace before stepping out of his arms. Keeping hold of one of his hands, she dragged him through the crowd to stop in front of Simon and Isabelle. Tapping Simon on the shoulder to get his attention, she simply held out her hand. Finally registering what the song was, Simon smiled and took it, offering his other hand to Izzy. Isabelle then took a few steps away, leading this growing chain of people towards her brother. Alec realised her intent and accepted her hand almost before she offered it, holding on to Magnus with the other.

Country roads, take me home

To the place I belong,

West Virginia,

Mountain mamma, take me home,

Country roads.

Jace found Emma and Julian, who then found Mark Blackthorn and Jonathan Morgenstern chatting in a corner. Jonathan claimed Aline Penhallow's free hand, as Helen Blackthorn found Ty and Livvy. The latter gripped Dru's hand, the other being taken by her father Andrew. He was met by Luke and Jocelyn, who had brought Robert and Max Lightwood along. Max offered his hand to Catarina Loss, who had been talking to Jia and Patrick Penhallow. Tessa Grey and Jem Carstairs joined the chain, as Maryse took Magnus's free hand, and Jem on the other side, completing the circle. 

To the place I belong,

West Virginia,

Mountain mamma, take me home,

Country roads.

All the while, people had been singing along to the song that spoke of home, of having a place where you belonged. As every person at the wedding (who wasn't fast asleep) held hands in that unbroken circle, they all realised that was exactly what they had – a group of friends that was as good as family, where they would always be welcome, no matter the time or place.

Take me home, that country road.

Take me home, that country road.

The song ended with every person there practically bellowing the words out, swaying together as one body. They finally broke apart amidst uproarious cheers and whistles.

Clary turned to Jace, and, slipping her arms around his neck, kissed him soundly. There was no mistaking this kiss for anything else: one that said _I love you_ , one that said _You are mine and I am yours_ – one that said _I'm home_.

 **The song used in this chapter was Take Me Home, Country Roads by John Denver. Full credits to the singer and songwriter(s).**

 **Thank you so much to everyone who has read this story! You have no idea how much it means to me when someone favourites/follows it. If you liked it, leave a review – I'll know what to keep doing in the next one. If not, leave a review – I'll know what I should try to fix.**

 **Thank you**

 **NewtPevensie xoxoxox**


End file.
